


Wintergreen

by howelleheir



Series: Zima & Leto [ARCHIVED] [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Breathplay, Chest Hair, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Eye Contact, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, HYDRA Trash Party, Hair-pulling, Hurt No Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Id Fic, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Light Bondage, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, May/December Relationship, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Stockholm Syndrome, Subdrop, Traumatic Bonding, Uncircumcised Penis, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation, everyone is horrible, no one is happy, psychologically battling your sugar daddy for dominance, this turned out sadder than I meant it to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelleheir/pseuds/howelleheir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At eighteen years old, Pierce is poised to inherit Lukin's wealth and a powerful role in Hydra, but it comes at a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wintergreen

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a Ruled By Secrecy EXTRA - Can be read without reading RBS, but I recommend reading both.

**Scarsdale, NY. 1954.**

 

Alex knocks on the door to Lukin’s study and then lets himself in.

“You got a letter,” he says, holding up the torn envelope and the single page of shakily handwritten script. “From Vasily.”

Lukin turns in his chair at the desk, “And, of course, you’ve already read it. Scavenger.”

With a humorless chuckle, Alex hands over the letter. “His handwriting’s impossible,” he says, perching on the edge of the desk. “But I managed to get the point. He’s ill. Doesn’t say from what, but it must be bad if he’s mentioning it at all. His nephew’s taking care of him. He wants you to come out there and manage his men for a while.”

Lukin skims over the page, then sighs and shuts it in a desk drawer.

“You know, if he’s asking you to do this _now_ , he’s probably considering handing the reigns over to you when he dies.”

“Probably true,” Lukin says with a raised eyebrow, “but no less an awful thing to say.”

“Hm. I’m sorry,” says Alex, sliding down from the desk and crossing behind Lukin’s chair. Pushes his jacket down his shoulders and works his hands over tense muscle. “But it’s something to think about. If he’s dying, it won’t be long before someone finds out. There’ll be vultures circling. You’ll want to make sure you’re ready to fend them off, get what’s yours.”

 _And mine, as soon as I’m ready,_ he thinks.

Lukin leans his head back against Alex’s stomach. “A good point,” he admits. “What would I do without you to snoop through my letters and keep a clear head for me?”

“Least I can do,” says Alex, wrapping his forearms around Lukin’s chest, and Lukin closes a hand around his wrist.

“I don’t tell you enough, I think, how much I appreciate you, Sasha.” He brings Alex’s hand to his mouth and kisses it before continuing. “I know you’ve not always been happy with our arrangement.”

_‘Arrangement’. That’s a laugh._

“No,” he says. “But I am now.”

Lukin turns in his chair. “Are you?” he asks, shrugging his jacket back onto his shoulders. “Or are you just happy to live in a nice house with nice things? Enjoy them until the vultures start circling _me,_ and then take all the rest?”

Alex takes a step back. Too late to conceal the anger on his face, but he has to do something. Lukin’s too close to the mark.

“How can you say that?” he snaps. “Is that really what you think of me? Well, for your information, you could leave me _nothing,_ and I’d still be right behind you doing everything I could to make sure that you came out on top, because I _love_ you, and I’d still love you even if you were just some rough trade barely scraping by in the back alleys.”

He turns on his heel and makes for the door. Just as he’s almost through it, he gets the reaction he’d expected.

“Sasha...wait.”

Biting back his smirk, Alex turns.

“I’m sorry,” Lukin says, coming over and reaching past Alex to shut the door. “Sometimes, I get it into my head that you’re too good to be true; I think I can’t be so lucky.”

Alex presses a hand to his cheek and kisses him softly. “Trust me,” he says. “I love you. Let me prove it.”

And the implication in his voice must do the trick, because a little smile starts at the corners of Lukin’s mouth, and he slips a hand under Alex’s shirt, pulling him in close by the small of his back. “My sweet boy,” he says. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Smiling, Alex pushes him back to the desk, pulling out the chair.

“Sit down,” he says, and when Lukin obeys, sinks to his knees in front of him and tugs his own sweatshirt up over his head. Lukin leans back in the chair to give access to his belt, which Alex unbuckles with one hand while the other traces a lazy path back and forth over the crease of Lukin’s thigh.

Opening his fly, pushing his shirttails out of the way, and folding back the fabric of his trousers, Alex brushes his fingers from hipbone to hipbone before wrapping them delicately around Lukin’s still-soft cock and ducking his head to kiss lightly along its length. Lukin’s scent envelops him - the bergamot-sandalwood-labdanum of his cologne, heavy and strong, but not unpleasant; the undercurrent of petroleum that perpetually clings to his skin and clothes; and, at the core, the smell of the man himself, sharp and animal and tinged with stirring arousal. It’s familiar, if not at all comforting.

Lukin groans softly as Alex dips his tongue underneath his foreskin, teases at it with wet lips, and then rolls it back as he sucks the head into his mouth. Lukin’s half-hard by the time Alex finally pulls back for a breath, and it only takes a few more deep strokes to get him the rest of the way there. Alex sets a quick pace and hums at the deepest point of every thrust. He pays close attention, listening to the timbre of Lukin’s voice and the depth of his breathing. When his groans go low and his breath shallow, and his taste is suddenly stronger - more bitter and saline - Alex wraps his fingers tightly around the base of his cock and pulls back with a wet _pop._

“Sasha!” Lukin gasps, shaking hands scrabbling up Alex’s neck and through his hair. “Don’t- don’t stop, please…”

Alex laughs and brushes Lukin’s hands away to stand and shed his slacks on the floor. “Not yet,” he says, straddling Lukin’s leg to sit on his knee, one smooth, bare thigh pressed firmly to his cock, grabs him by the tie, and licks his swollen lips before continuing, “I want to take my time with you.”

“You’re the devil, you know that?” Lukin sighs, smiling and looking on through half-lidded eyes as Alex loosens the tie and pulls it from his collar.

“Hm, maybe…” he chuckles, giving a cheeky little shrug. “But you love it.”

“God help me…”

Shifting to wrap his thighs around Lukin’s hips, Alex rests his full weight against him and buries his face in his neck, sucks and nips at a tight tendon, rolls his hips to rub their cocks together. He grabs Lukin’s wrists and guides them behind the chair, winding the tie around them and knotting it firmly before Lukin has a chance to protest.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks as Alex opens his jacket and shirt and, smirking, hops up onto the desk and leans back with his weight in his forearms.

Lukin’s eyes are locked hungrily on him, so he spreads his knees to give him a better view and replies, “Just getting your hands out of the way.”

He stretches out his legs to rest the sole of one foot against Lukin’s neck and sweep the other through the hair on his chest before curling his toes around a nipple. The look on Lukin’s face as he arches into the touch is euphoric, pupils wide and jaw slack. Alex squeezes again, and he tosses his head to the side, rubbing his cheek against Alex’s foot and kissing wetly at his heel.

Gritting his teeth, Alex trails his toes down Lukin’s belly and watches the shiver ripple through his skin, followed by a wave of goosebumps. He lets out a throaty hiss as Alex presses his cock into his belly with the arch of his foot, grinds it in, grips at the head a few times, and then brushes back up, dipping briefly into his collarbone, skimming over his neck, threading through his hair.

With the other, he tilts Lukin’s face back toward him, stroking the ball of his foot through his beard. When Lukin sinks his mouth onto Alex’s toes, licking and sucking at them, Alex recoils and kicks at his throat, almost hard enough to overbalance him in the chair.

“Don’t do that,” he snaps, keeping his heel pressed hard under Lukin’s chin. “It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Sasha...” Lukin whispers. It’s a warning; his eyes are closed and his teeth clenched. Alex can only push him a little further.

He heaves himself down from the desk, back into Lukin’s lap - the contact will at least placate him a little - and grips his jaw. “You just want your mouth on any part of me you can get, don’t you?” he says, not bothering anymore with the coy smile. “Any chance you can take to get your filth on me, you vulgar, desperate old fairy.”

“Untie me. You won’t like it if I have to do it myself.”

Before he does as he’s told, Alex chances a kiss, deep and slow. Lukin bites at his bottom lip. Playful. He’s not nearly as upset as he’s letting on. Alex kisses across his jawline and down his neck to his shoulder so that he can reach his bound hands. As soon as Lukin’s hands are free, they’re on him, clutching at his hair to pull him into another kiss, rougher this time, grasping at his hips, leaving bruises over his ass and thighs. Lukin stands, supporting Alex’s weight just long enough to drop him onto the desk on his back. Alex gasps, winded, and then again when Lukin drops to one knee, still holding his legs up and spreading him, and puts his mouth on him, lips and tongue moving in quick, firm strokes between his cheeks.

Alex hears a drawer open and then shut, and, shouldering Alex’s calves on one side, Lukin stands up, tossing the jar of petroleum jelly onto the desk and rubbing his freshly-slicked cock against him, pressing incrementally inside.

“Not much to say now, hm?” he says. He wraps an arm around Alex’s thighs and kisses his knee. “You were so talkative just a moment ago. Is this what you wanted? For me to lose my temper with you? Put you in your place?”

“If that was what I wanted,” Alex replies, gripping the edge of the desk and clenching his jaw against the burning stretch as Lukin’s cock works into him, “I got it.”

Lukin shudders as Alex clenches around him, and sets a brutal rhythm. “Well,” he taunts breathlessly. “I suppose- _ah..._ I spoil you...Can’t deny- _mhn..._ my sweet boy...anything he wants.”

Each thrust rips a broken cry from Alex’s throat, and he can’t find the breath or the wit for another retort, so he goes slack, unhooking his knees from Lukin’s shoulder and locking them around his waist, allowing the man to pull him by the hips into every merciless stroke, closes his eyes, listens to the rhythmic slap of sweat-soaked flesh-on-flesh, Lukin’s deepening growl and shallow panting, and then the feeling of a hot palm on his throat, callused fingers wrapping around, squeezing, the heaviness in his head and pressure behind his eyes and tingling in his lips, his moans fading to wheezing gasps and Lukin’s grip tightening, every meager breath full of that scent.

 _Focus on it,_ he reminds himself, _Dissect it. Stay here. If you don’t, god knows what he’ll do._

Bergamot.

Sandalwood.

Patchouli.

Vanilla.

Labdanum.

Oakmoss.

Petroleum.

Samogon.

Tobacco.

Clove.

“Sasha, eyes on me.”

His lids lift halfway, too heavy to open completely. He looks toward Lukin’s eyes, tries to study them, but he can’t keep focus through the haze. Lukin’s free hand grips Sasha’s cock, but the sensation is miles away, just like the stuttering thrusts and rush of heat when Lukin comes inside him.

Suddenly, Lukin pulls away, staggering back toward the chair, and air rushes into Sasha’s - no, _Alex’s_ \- lungs. Face hot, head pounding and swimming. Everything comes back into sharp focus all at once - the dark wood and burgundy wallpaper of the study, the unyielding surface of the desk underneath him. And then, Lukin’s mouth on his cock, too cool and his lips too dry, but also a building heat. He must’ve been close before, because hips jerk up involuntarily under Lukin’s anchoring hands, his fingernails dig dents into the desk’s polish, and he sobs in near-painful climax.

Alex feels boneless, but he manages to sit up on the desk and close his legs, cringing away from Lukin’s lingering touches.

The man looks stricken. “I thought we were _long_ past this,” he says, placing a careful hand on Alex’s bicep. “Flinching at me like you think I’m going to hurt you...honestly, Sasha-”

“I’m fine,” Alex grits out, listening to the shifting of fabric as Lukin buttons his shirt and zips his fly. “I just need a minute.”

He wants to get up, scramble into his clothes, go to his bedroom for the night, but he aches all over and his throat is sore and his legs are weak and his body temperature is dropping rapidly the longer he sits there, exposed. So almost as soon as he’s gotten to his feet, he sinks to the floor in front of the chair and rests his head on Lukin’s thigh. It feels pitiful - _needing_ this contact, but he’s never been without it, not since he was too young to understand what it would mean, and he can’t force himself, yet, to go without it.

“I don’t...” Lukin starts, smoothing Alex’s hair out of his face. He hesitates, as if he doesn’t know how to continue, then exhales softly. “I don’t need you to love me, Sasha. Vasily certainly never needed love from me. Respect and obedience. That was all I gave to him, and he repaid it a hundred times. I will always do the same for you, whether you love me or not.”

Lukin is silent for a moment, then swallows.

“But I’m more selfish, I think, than Vasily, so I’ll ask for one more thing,” he says, tipping Alex’s face up toward him. His jaw is tight, his gaze, searching. “Let an old man have his fantasy. Let me look into your eyes, sometimes, and pretend that you love me. And then you can have whatever money and station I leave behind, and I can die content to be a fool.”

Alex nods, slowly, and finds purchase against Lukin’s knee to pull himself up. His legs are steadier now, and he’s not so cold. Straddling Lukin’s lap, he takes his hand and looks into his eyes. Heavy-lidded, dirty gold. Lukin barely blinks for several long minutes, stroking Alex’s cheek and hair until, finally, he smiles, squeezes his hand, and says, “Thank you.”

Without a second thought, Alex leans forward and kisses him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he says, pressing his forehead to Lukin’s.

Alex stands, gathers his clothes from under the desk, and gets into them as Lukin pulls his typewriter back to the center of the desk and turns his attention to his work.

Once he’s in the hall, he lets out a shuddering breath. His face feels feverish, and his chest tight with building fury. This is unreasonable. This is _cruel._

All he wants is to get Lukin’s scent off of him.

He hurries to his bathroom, stands under scalding water, rinses his mouth, and scrubs every inch of himself, but once he’s dry, it’s there again. Faint, but unmistakable.

In his bedroom, he pulls the little tin from the bedside table and pops a strong wintergreen mint into his mouth.

It’s the only thing that ever cuts through that smell.


End file.
